


Secrets: Bitter and Twisted

by CuddlerOfDragons



Series: Secrets [7]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:47:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26291377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuddlerOfDragons/pseuds/CuddlerOfDragons
Summary: S5-E8 (spoiler-ish)  Set BEFORE the 'coffee scene'.Once they have you at their mercy, the bad guys always want to talk...
Series: Secrets [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1344382
Comments: 6
Kudos: 70





	Secrets: Bitter and Twisted

“Visually, we were the _same_. Aside from the _wings_ , of course. Created in the same _instant_ , neither one of us was _first_. You understand?”

“Yes.”

“So why was _he_ the favourite? How could there even _be_ a favourite?”

“He told me once that your father said _Amenadiel_ was the favourite..”

“ ** _No!_** _You_ do **_not_** get to do that. ** _”_**

“Okay.” She whispered.

“Amenadiel’s an _idiot_. He badly translated a bunch of hearsay _crap,_ written by some dumb-ass Sumerians, who wouldn’t know Father’s whims, if they got up and pissed all over them. Samael was, _is_ and ever _shall_ be, the favourite.”

“Okay.”

“So, I came up with a _plan_. Show them _all_ that he wasn’t _worth_ it. You know, it was _embarrassingly_ easy. Samael _clearly_ didn’t get a half share of the _brains_ \- I hope no one ever thought we were the same in _that_ respect.”

“I doubt it.”

“I engineered his _entire_ downfall and he _never_ realized. He actually thought that it was his _own_ idea. _All_ of it. The rebellion, the screwing around in the garden - the _fucking up_ of humanity - and best of all because _he_ believed it, _Father_ believed it.

“And, oh, the battle was _glorious_. I got to _fight_ him - properly, with Father’s _blessing_ \- no holds barred; to the _death_ , if necessary but I made sure he’d live. Don’t get me wrong, I _hate_ him enough to kill him but I wanted to take his place in everyone’s _affections_ and I knew that if he _died_ … Well, the dead are _always_ forgiven.”

“Is that when you got your..?” She gestures at his shoulder.

“ _Injury?_ Yes. A legitimate _war_ wound, something to be _proud_ of. Something that would show the others how _bad_ he was and how _brave_ I am. So, _he_ was thrown into Hell and I was… _free_ of him.”

“Were you?” She asks, softly.

“Of course. He’d _gone_. Oh and the _lies_ I spread about him; again, nothing _overt_ , nothing that could be traced back to _me._ I was _so_ subtle but the message spread and soon he was being held responsible for _all_ the evil in creation. You can‘t _imagine_ how easy it is - even with _no_ kind of proof - people _want_ someone to blame.”

“The Devil made me do it.”

“Exactly. Millennia of it being _his_ fault. Even our siblings, his _family_ , the ones who should have known _better_ because they’d _known_ him _,_ considered him to be evil. I’ll just bet _that_ burned.”

“Yes, I imagine so.”

“But it wasn’t _enough_. I still had his _face_ \- never my _own_ always _his_. The ones that _loved_ him wouldn’t look at me because of it and the ones that hated and feared him wouldn’t look at me, for the same reason. So, through no fault of my _own_ …”

“ _Entirely_ your fault, since you’re claiming responsibility for his rebellion.” She says, quietly but with conviction.

“..I was just as much of an outcast as he was.” He sighs, as though he is the most tragic of heroes. “I wandered, alone, for a long time; I even visited Earth, once it became _interesting_. I changed the way I looked… blond hair, that kinda thing… my injury never healed properly but, on occasion, when I pretended to be _him_ , I could ignore it and _appear_ to be… whole.”

“What about the accent?” She’s sounding genuinely curious, now.

“I _learned_ to speak English, _here_ , in the Americas. _He_ never _had_ to learn, he speaks _every_ language that has _ever_ been someone’s mother tongue. It’s _effortless_ , for him and he speaks each one, at it’s very _best_. It matches his _suits._ His _wealth_. His _attitude_. Naturally, if he was ever _forced_ to have to communicate with a life-form dragged up in the slums of… Glasgow, for example, where you wouldn’t recognise its speech as anything _remotely_ resembling English, he could _do_ it but what he speaks, day-to-day, is his default. I had to _practice_ , to fool all his _friends_.”

“Not _all_ of them.”

“No. That _was_ unexpected. On the upside, I can _relax_ , again. Be myself. Stop pretending to _like_ you semi-civilized cretins.”

“The real you.”

“Yes. Are you more mentally impaired than usual? I just _said_ I was being _myself.”_

“Just making certain. I already knew that Angels self-actualize, from Lucifer and Amenadiel but _you_ … this is _really_ how you are, _inside?_ I‘d _pity_ you, if you weren‘t so… loathsome.”

“What?” He sounds uncertain, now.

“All hunched and sneering, like a Shakespeare villain. At least when _Lucifer_ makes himself _look_ like a monster, he does it with _style.”_

“You think I did _this_ to my _self_ , that I _want_ to look this way?”

“Didn’t you know? Were you too busy dripping poison into your father’s ear, to pay attention when Amenadiel tried to _share_ the secret he’d discovered?”

“Secret?”

“That your _own_ subconscious, dictates your reality. You said it yourself: ‘Visually, we were the _same.‘ He_ was described as the brightest and most beautiful, why weren’t _you?_ Because _you_ took all that beauty - that your _father_ gave you - and made it repellent. The only time you were ever _remotely_ attractive, was when you were pretending to be Lucifer. How have you never realized that if you’re bitter and twisted on the _inside_ , then…”

“ ** _Shut up_**.” He smacks the bars and she flinches. “You have no _right_ to speak to me, this way. Miracle or not, you’re just another _animal_ with delusions of grandeur. Vile, stinking primates, swarming over the Earth, like one of Mom’s _plagues_ , wantonly destroying _everything_ in your path. You _belong_ in this zoo. The only reason you don’t still pick _fleas_ off each other is because you have _TV,_ now…”

“And _you_ would have taken me to _bed_ , if I hadn’t figured out that you weren’t Lucifer; if _I’m_ just an _animal_ , what does that make _you?”_

“I’m gonna go now. I have things to do. _Important_ things.” He sounds horribly calm but it‘s one of his lies. “You’d better hope that I remember to come back, before your kind’s _unfortunate_ dependence on food and water becomes a problem.”

He turns and limps away.

_‘That’s new.’_ Chloe thinks as she watches him leave. _‘I must have - literally - struck a nerve.’_ She waits until she hears the sound of his wings, before she checks the bars, hoping that he damaged them, in his rage…


End file.
